


Alive (for once in his goddamn life)

by montivagantly_writing



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: BAMF Klaus Hargreeves, But also looked at the comics, Gen, I took some creative liberty with Klaus' abilities?, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Luther Hargreeves Being an Asshole, Number Five Being an Asshole, Spoilers, but isn't he always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 14:23:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montivagantly_writing/pseuds/montivagantly_writing
Summary: Klaus decides sitting in on one of the patented "Family Meetings But Really It's Just Five Yelling at Them" while detoxing is just the perfect thing to do for an afternoon of fun. He's never had the best decision making, but at least it makes for some interesting results.basically, I suck at summaries and klaus goes o f f





	Alive (for once in his goddamn life)

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all, this is my first fic on here,,, so,,,, gl and have fun.

Klaus holds his head in his hands, feeling his skin prickle and burn under his clothes. A headache pounds in time with his heartbeat, only intensified by the absolute clusterfuck of noise around him. He feels the cool, light touch of Ben’s ghostly hand on his shoulder and leans into it for a moment, then waves it off dismissively.

Ben scoffs behind him. “Fine, okay,” he grumbles. “Suffer in peace.”

Klaus scowles into his palms but otherwise says nothing. His siblings had been back and forthing for what felt like close to an hour. Of course, he thinks bitterly, they had never asked for his input, but he doubts he would be much help, anyway. He can feel the pull towards the stash in his room, and he mentally counts all of the pills in it, their hidden locations burning searingly bright on the map in his mind. Only the hovering, mother-hen presence of Ben and the image of Dave holds him in place. He can feel the tremors of withdrawal coursing through him, shaking him in his seat. A wave of nausea pushes through him and he lets out a long, trembling breath.

“So what about you, Klaus? Do you have anything to contribute to this conversation?”

Klaus looks up at Luther’s hard tone, suddenly directed at him. The monstrous man is glaring at him, arms crossed and shoulders squared. Klaus lets out a weak laugh and slumps back in the couch. “I don’t know, man,” he says, trying to steady his voice. “If it’s all the same, I’d like to sit this one out.” It’s getting hard to even keep his head up, a full-body weakness sinking into his bones. He holds back a wince and digs his fingernails into his thigh as a distraction. “I’m just not feeling it, you know?” The nonchalonce in his voice sounds fake, even to him, but no one seems to notice. Or doesn’t care to, at least.

“Not feeling it?”

This time it is Five’s scathing tone that bounces around his skull. He turns to Five with a blank expression, scratching hard into his leg as another round of tremors passes through him.

“The hell do you mean, not feeling it? The entire world is about to end and you’re ‘not feeling it’?” Five says.

Klaus tunes out of Five’s rant, knowing he could just catch the shit later. He feels his eyes glass over and a distinct feeling of separation washes through him. Separation from his family, the situation, his body. The pain still follows him in his removed state, enveloping him in a bubble.

Ben materializes in front of Klaus, giving him a very obvious, but concerned, once over. “You don’t look so good,” Ben says worriedly, crouching down to get a better look at Klaus’s face.

Klaus doesn’t even feel the energy for a sassy retort, and so just stares back into the middle distance. Five’s grating voice is still scraping away at him, each insult intensifying the feeling of worthlessness that he wasn’t sure was because of the withdrawal or his own fucked up brain. Absently, and with an almost mechanical quality, he draws a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, pulling deeply at it and holding the smoke in his lungs for a few moments. He lets it out slowly, the spiral of gray curling out and away from him, drifting away in a ghostly cloud. The momentary relief flees him in a rush as a hand snatches the cigarette away from him, grinding it angrily into an ashtray. “Wh- hey!” Klaus cries indignantly, glaring at Five. “What the hell was that?” He asks.

Five grits his teeth and attempts to loom menacingly, which, despite his size, works.

Klaus shrinks back in his seat, staring wide-eyed at the incensed Five.

“‘That’ was me being done with your bullshit,” Five seethes. “It was me being done with your druggie-ass always fucking everything up around here. I mean, come on. When was the last time you actually pulled your weight? The last time you were actually _sober_?” He hisses.

Klaus tries to interject that he was sober, finally, despite all the pain it was putting him through, but his throat closes up and he is choked with panic. Five’s anger reminds him too much of his father’s. His father’s when he had locked Klaus in that mausoleum for hours and hours on end. His father’s when he abandoned Klaus, when everyone had abandoned Klaus to face the sickly horror of the spectral realm.

“Hey, Five, calm down.” That is Allison’s voice, ever calm and actually on his side for once.

Klaus’s momentary feeling of hope is dashed as Luther decides to reenter the conversation.

“No, Alli, Five’s right. What good is in Klaus’s being here if he never takes anything seriously enough to matter?” Luther asks, a finality in his tone that shows he isn’t expecting an answer. He turns to Klaus, eyes hard and jaw set. “We can’t expect him to be useful in this fight if all he cares about is his next high.”

Klaus manages to hold his gaze for a second before looking away, feeling the searing pain of Luther’s glare burning into him. Luther says something else, Diego scoffs, and then they are off again, arguing without progressing towards any sort of solution.

Klaus lets his head hang down again and takes a deep breath. Then another. Then several more as he tries to force down the surging waves of panic pressing at his chest. The voices of his siblings crowd in around him, echoed by the screams and wails of the shifting figures that were slowly becoming more and more real. Even with his eyes closed, he can sense them. Sense them pushing and pulling in some wraith-like tide. Sense them calling to him, howling his name, screaming and crying and begging for someone, anyone, _Klaus!_ He groans low in his throat, his hands creeping up over his ears. Ben’s voice, the insubstantial chill of his hand, all blend into the chaotic world around him. The dark, swirling world of fear and grief that always felt like a bad trip even when he was sober.

There was too much, all of a sudden, except it wasn’t all of a sudden, because it had been building for a long time. It had been building since he first walked in the door. Since he had decided sitting in the middle of their shared living space was a good idea. Since he had thought going cold turkey was a good idea. It had been too much since Hazel and Cha-Cha. Too much since the goddamn apocalypse. Hell, it had all been too much since his siblings had decided that impressing dear old dad was more important than dear old Klaus getting fucked in alleyways for drug money. But that was a whole other hellhole.

Klaus was distantly aware of the world around him, and even more distantly aware of the fact that dissociation probably wasn’t the healthiest way to go about this, but at least he was sober. Not that anyone believed him, anyway, he thought bitterly. No one had ever believed him. Why should they? Why should they believe the desperate junky who would probably sell them for his next hit? _Would_ he sell any of them for his next hit? The din of noise around him adopted a distinctly self-disparaging tone, which he valiantly raged against. He didn’t give a shit about what his siblings thought. He would die a hundred times over for any of them, even if they wouldn’t be inclined to do the same. It’s not like anyone actually realized he was missing, anyway.

Suddenly, and it was sudden this time, Klaus stopped breathing. And he _felt_ it. Felt his heart momentarily seize with the realization that no one had actually looked for him. Diego had found him by accident. After those two sickos had shot up the mansion, nearly killing Luther, for fuck’s sake, none of them had been even the slightest bit worried. None of them had cared, and why should they? Why shouldn’t they see him as anything more as the lazy, high, careless fuck he was? Family should be more important than anything, but everything was more important than him.

He doesn’t feel it was he falls face first off of the couch, but some part of him is aware that it still takes his siblings a few moments to notice, and a few more to actually fall quiet. He is _distinctly_ aware, however, of what has stopped him from face-planting into the shag carpet. Ben. Ben has shot out to catch his fall like he always does, because Klaus is always falling one way or another, but this time. _This time_.

This time it actually works. Ben is actually holding him, and Klaus isn’t sure which of them is more surprised. He’s going to vote for himself, because on top of his sudden manifestation of Ben, the sensation has slammed him back into his body (unfortunately), and nothing is really making sense right now. He and Ben are staring at each other for a split second longer before Ben flickers out of corporeality and Klaus falls the rest of the way down. And stays like that. He stays on his hands and knees and looks at the carpet without really seeing it. He’s too caught up with the fact that Ben was _fucking touching_ him, _holding_ him.

And then he notices that it’s quiet. Absolutely, completely, blessedly quiet. Klaus looks up at his siblings to see them all staring down at him. It’s not a completely uncommon occurrence, unfortunately, but this time there’s no disappointment in any of their gazes. No disgust. They’re all just mirroring the same shock that he can feel on his face. At the continued silence, Klaus slowly gets to his feet. The ensuing headrush is almost enough to bring him down again, but he only sways a lot. He looks at them all once more before deciding, fuck it, he needed a bath, and turning on his heel.

He is so close, _so fucking close_ to freedom, so close that it physically pains him to hear Five say “and where do you think you’re going?”

Klaus takes a deep breath. And then another. And another. And he sees Ben’s ghost flicker back in front of him. Funnily enough, he registers distantly, Ben seems as furious as he’s ever been.

And Klaus explodes.

He whips around on his heel, and actually takes a moment to enjoy the way the little bastard flinches away from his glare. His nausea by the quick movement is burned away by the sudden rage filling him and he narrows his gaze. “Where the fuck do I think I’m going?” He repeats slowly. Then, louder. “Where the fuck do I think I’m going?” He’s shouting now, and he can’t muster a single fuck to give about that fact. “I think I’m going to take a fucking bath and detox in some fucking _peace_ and _quiet_ ,” he says.

He sees Five’s eyes begin to narrow, the doubt begin to furrow his infuriatingly small brow, and Klaus takes a step forward. The heels he’s wearing click menacingly against the hardwood floor, and the sound makes Five flinch again.

“I think I’m gonna go spend some time with people that don’t just see me as a worthless junkie who would be better off sucking dick in an alleyway,” Klaus says, his voice loud and scathing. He clocks Allison stepping forward before she speaks.

“That’s not true,” she tries to say, but he cuts her off with a scoff.

Her words feed the growing fire inside him. The anger roils in his chest and Klaus briefly wonders if this is what Ben feels before the monsters erupt through his chest. “Please,” he hisses. “Don’t act like all you see when you look at me is an OD waiting to happen.” He turns to the rest of them, now. “And while we’re on the topic of being worthless in alleyways,” he pauses, adopting a faux innocent face, all shock and intrigue. “Did you know that I was kidnapped and tortured for over 36 hours a hot minute ago?”

There’s no response, and only Diego looks away. Five shoots him a look that is full of curiosity, and, is that anger Klaus can see in little Five’s face? How fucking precious.

“Yeah,” Klaus crows, pulling back into himself. “It was a blast and a half. Had a great time with those masked loons. I’ve gotta be honest, though,” he adds in a conspiratorial whisper. “The waterboarding was my favorite.”

Allison’s hand flies to her mouth and she makes a little choked sound in her throat. Diego winces, and Klaus focuses in on him with laser accuracy. “And kudos to Diego! The only one who actually bothered looking. But wait, what was that?” He asks, pausing for melodramatic effect. “Oh yeah! How could I forget? Diego only found me because he was looking for Five!” Five’s name is a scream at this point, and it seems to do the trick.

With his words, Klaus feels a strange, cool tingling begin to wash over him, flooding down from his brain to his fingers. Five sharply looks away from Klaus, behind him, and he knows that Ben has made his sequel debut. It takes a moment for the others to notice him, too.

But when they do, it is Luther who steps up first. “I thought,” he begins quietly. “I thought you couldn’t conjure anything when you were sober.”

Klaus _cackles_. It is all together not a pleasant sound, and he sees Luther flinch like he’s been stung by the sound of it. The cool tingling increases across his skin, and the laugh tinges hysteric. Klaus wipes an imaginary tear from his eyes and fixes Luther with a withering glare. “What an astute observation, dear brother,” Klaus croons. “It’s almost like, hmm, let me think.” Klaus begins counting his words off on his fingers. “Full body chills, weakness, headache, nausea, fatigue, constant fucking pain, what do these all sound like, ladies and gents?”

He asks the room, but now he’s staring at Diego, who he knows had to do some compulsory medical training for his police stint, and who now curses and avoids Klaus’s eyes. “Diego,” Klaus says. “Would you like to share with the class?” At Diego’s muteness, Klaus can hear Ben growl behind him and Klaus grins, sharp and manic. “That’s detox, everybody! Nice and fun and possibly deadly if you go cold turkey, which,” Klaus points to himself with both thumbs, and for once, it finally feels like they believe him.

Luther opens his mouth again, and nothing in the entire fucking world could have prepared Klaus for the rage that fills him. “Do you really expect us to believe that, after all these years, you’ve finally decided to stop this? Come on Klaus, I thought you were better than that.”

In one moment, Luther is looking at him with an odd mix of disappointment and concern, and in the next, Klaus is _alive_. Of course, he had been alive before, but it had been flat. Monochrome. The only spikes of color being when EMTs shock him back to life, or a fresh new cut of something he had bought off someone sketchy. Now, it is as if someone had shoved a bone back into place that he hadn’t even realized was out of line. A violent click, and then--

And then Klaus manifests every single spirit in the room. And for once, they don’t feel like a threat. For once, they are all him. All resonating with him, all with a single mind and goal and _rage_. Klaus can feel his worn jacket whipping against him, and he suddenly sees himself through a distant lens. He sees himself caught in an unseen wind, his hair wild and his eyes a bright, simmering blue, the same blue spiking up and down his hands like lightning, and he’s fucking _levitating_.

He shifts back into his body, and the rage condenses, rolls and curls until he can feel it like magma in his core. He looks at each of his siblings in turn, watching with satisfaction as they are finally thrust into his world, and are scared shitless by it.

He finally meets Luther’s wide, terrified gaze and settles there, tilting his head. “Do you think,” he begins slowly, feeling each word roll off his tongue and dissipate in the same crackling energy that holds him off the ground. “That if I wasn’t sober, I could do this?” Klaus keeps him voice calm and inflectionless, but he knows that the wave of his fury has hit Luther right in the face. There is complete and utter silence in response.

Klaus tilts his head, blinks, and then gives the rest of his siblings a once over. “I’m gonna go take a bath,” he says casually, turning to float (fucking float what the _fuck_ ) down the hallway. “If anyone bothers me,” he tosses over his shoulder. “Even I don’t know what I’ll do to you.”

Klaus turns the corner and, all at once, in a sudden but not so sudden breath, every ghost disappears as one.


End file.
